


ride or die with you

by kunimi_blep



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Different AUs all of them, Drabbles, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, Just wanted to write kisses, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Oifuta are idiots and so am i, Pining, Post-Timeskip, nothing explicit tbh, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 17,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi_blep/pseuds/kunimi_blep
Summary: oifuta kisses drabbles just because they deserve to belips on lips(or, just me taking cuteotp kisses promptsand running away with them)
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 9





	1. 🌆 let me ease your mind

**Author's Note:**

> none of these drabbles are related to one another i think. i just really ran away with the prompts and ruined them yessss we love to see it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you're murmuring into each other's mouths

Over Oikawa, Futakuchi holds himself up, arms on either side of Oikawa's head.

Futakuchi isn't his boyfriend. Oikawa isn't even sure if they're lovers. They're just.. _this_ , whatever this is.

Oikawa parts his lips to let Futakuchi kiss him deeper, and he feels pride swell within his chest when Futakuchi's arms shake in response, and he finally lets his weight fall on top of Oikawa.

It doesn't knock the air out of his lungs, it doesn't hurt where he's lying on his back, it doesn't matter as long as he can rest under Futakuchi like this.

Futakuchi hasn't always been the best kisser, but to be fair, neither has Oikawa, if he's being honest. But Futakuchi stays with him and has never once complained, and even if it's _just_ this, then Oikawa isn't going to complain either.

Futakuchi isn't his boyfriend. Oikawa isn't even sure if they're lovers. They're just.. _this_ , whatever this is.

It's something that occupies Oikawa's mind sometimes, digs into a corner of his brain and settles there until it stretches and takes over. Oikawa can tell himself over and over again that he doesn't want anything more than this, and he wishes he would believe it as much as Futakuchi does.

This isn't the best thing to be thinking about, not when Futakuchi has guided one of Oikawa's hands onto his neck, and although the heat of his skin is distracting, it isn't quite distracting enough.

He feels Futakuchi's hum against his lips, obviously a question, at why Oikawa's mouth had gotten a little more lax, that little bit more unresponsive.

It eats up at Oikawa's insides every single day.

Oikawa tries to turn his head to part from Futakuchi, but his lips are chased and enclosed in not even a second. Oikawa lets this happen for a few moments more, but ultimately tugs at Futakuchi's hair for a moment.

"What are we?" Oikawa's voice sounds wrecked, weak even to himself, and he regrets the whisper the moment it leaves his lips to touch Futakuchi's, but Futakuchi only lets out a quiet laugh.

"You tell me," Futakuchi answers, obviously not thinking much of it, voice dismissive as he presses his lips against Oikawa's, more insistent as if to shut him up.

Oikawa wants to shut up, too, _but_.

Futakuchi isn't his boyfriend. Oikawa isn't even sure if they're lovers. They're just.. _this_ , whatever this is.

"Friends...?" Oikawa lets out a breath that Futakuchi drinks in through his open mouth, and Oikawa swallows the chuckle he lets out in return.

"Sure." Futakuchi kisses him again, paying no heed to however serious Oikawa is still trying to be.

At the back of Oikawa's head, he decides it's a lost cause, convinces himself it doesn't matter, pushes himself up and kisses Futakuchi harder, with more want, not knowing what he even wants to get across anymore.

"Friends who kiss," Oikawa mumbles, and Futakuchi's hum of agreement is lost to the ringing in his ears, the pounding of his heart, the voices in his head trying to convince him that this is exactly how he wants it.

Futakuchi isn't his boyfriend. Oikawa isn't even sure if they're lovers. They're just.. _this_ , whatever this is.

_Just kisses_ _then_ , Oikawa thinks, getting lightheaded from how long Futakuchi hasn't parted from him, but when he takes a breath in as he feels small nibbles at his lower lip, he can't help but declare, "If it's just kisses, then it doesn't have to be me."

Futakuchi stills, props himself back up, looks down at Oikawa. Oikawa hates how good he looks, his hair falling over his eyes, one corner of his mouth lifting as he smirks. "You're right." He hates how playful yet honest Futakuchi's voice is. "It doesn't have to be you."

The answer eases his mind, because at least he's sure now, that Futakuchi isn't his boyfriend, and they aren't even lovers. They're just _friends who kiss_.

The whirlwind in Oikawa's head fades into white noise and it calms him down. This is what he wanted. This is what he needed to hear.

Futakuchi surges down to kiss him again, the end of any more talk, and Oikawa responds in the only way he knows how, by kissing him back with everything he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holiday break means i can edit and post my 20 oifuta kiss drabbles in one go like an idiot so here i go


	2. 🎢 only when i'm with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall

It only takes the four seconds of Futakuchi locking his apartment door before Oikawa is turning him around and pushing him against it. It only takes one second more before his lips are on Futakuchi's.

Oikawa will admit it, this time, if Futakuchi wants him to. He's impatient. Has been for seven days and nine hours, not that he's counting, that they haven't seen each other, and he gives zero shit if Futakuchi is going to tease him about it.

Futakuchi pushes his back off of the door, pushes his weight against Oikawa, and they stumble a little, almost trip over their own feet, but Oikawa finds support when his back meets the wall this time, and between that and Futakuchi, he doesn't fall over, safe in this space.

Oikawa knows that in this moment, he _is_ impatience personified. But he also knows Futakuchi feels the same way, anyway, if only just a little bit.

Futakuchi attempts to stop then, when it feels like it hasn't been enough, hasn't nearly been enough, so Oikawa chases his lips with his. It doesn't matter that Oikawa's ankle hits the small shoe rack, or Futakuchi's small bag of groceries falls to the floor, or Oikawa's shirt is caught by the small wall hook for their keys, or Futakuchi's back digs into the edge of the entryway to the living room.

What matters more is Futakuchi holding him by his sides, his hands everywhere he can reach, even as he's again pushed against the wall. What matters most is when Futakuchi drags his hands up Oikawa's neck and into his hair.

Oikawa hums, moans, cries out in a way he should be embarrassed of, when Futakuchi pulls him away by his hair. When he opens his eyes, it isn't to see Futakuchi angry or confused, it's to see him with a stupid grin on his face, as if his chest isn't heaving already from just that one long kiss that Oikawa had never wanted to end.

"Easy," Futakuchi reprimands, smirk growing wider. Oikawa wonders how he must look to Futakuchi, a little shaky as he stays still where Futakuchi holds him by his hair. He must look wrecked, or desperate, or whipped. Maybe all three, to Futakuchi's eyes.

To Oikawa, he feels Futakuchi doesn't look very far off from himself, but he's more put together, less affected, more in control, and it's unfair just how much power he still has over Oikawa when he's the one who's got Futakuchi pushed against the wall.

Wrecked and desperate and whipped, Oikawa doesn't know what to do except to try to lean back in to keep kissing Futakuchi.

But the fingers that Futakuchi still has in his hair, even without any force, keep him still.

It is only when his eyes focus on Futakuchi's, finally, and when his then wide smirk has gotten subtler, smaller, morphing into a more gentle kind of smile, that Oikawa stops trying to move closer.

"Easy," Futakuchi whispers, and when he breathes in, Oikawa realizes this is the first time that he's actually taking a proper breath himself. 

Futakuchi gently urges Oikawa's head forward, their faces closer, and when their lips meet in what Oikawa thinks is the softest, calmest, most quiet kiss they've shared this night, it still knocks the breath out of him just the same.

"Easy, Tooru-san."


	3. 📽️ come in waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person's

The movie is just about ending, the plot coming to a falling action and resolution impending.

Oikawa has _not_ been paying attention to the movie at all.

How could he, really, when across the couch and, in Oikawa's opinion, way too far from him, Futakuchi sits, all damningly pretty, even though his eyes have barely left the television screen at all, too stupidly interested in shitty detectives in their shitty suspense thrillers. 

He's been so engrossed that he literally doesn't even care when Oikawa purposefully takes popcorn the same time Futakuchi does so their hands would touch.

Oikawa wasn't planning anything when he'd unceremoniously invited himself over to Futakuchi's place on a Friday night.

But it was Futakuchi who had flirted with him and teased him as they were trying ridiculous ways to turn their ramen gourmet, and it was Futakuchi who had flirted with him and teased him saying they should have a movie night _like a date_.

The back and forth and the bickering and the flirting and the teasing, these were all normal, and these were funny.

It was supposed to be funny, and it was, really, until it wasn't anymore.

Oikawa suddenly kept thinking about how pretty Futakuchi's hair is and how soft it would be if he touched it. He suddenly kept thinking about how pretty Futakuchi's eyes were and how the light from the television reflected off of them. 

It was supposed to be funny, and it was, really, until it wasn't anymore.

Oikawa suddenly kept thinking about how pretty Futakuchi's hands were and how, even covered in gross popcorn butter, he still wanted to intertwine those fingers with his own. He suddenly kept thinking about how pretty Futakuchi's lips were and how, even if all that ever came out of them were words to rile him up, he still wanted to know how those lips tasted.

He thanks whatever dropped in the movie with a thud for snapping him back to reality, for catching him staring way too long. Oikawa knows there couldn't possibly be any chance that Futakuchi hasn't noticed it by now, but if he wants to feign ignorance, honestly, that'd be better.

"Did you even watch the movie?" The cockiness in Futakuchi's voice is annoying and would have Oikawa challenging him back, but after close to an hour and a half of swimming and drowning in his own thoughts, he just couldn't deal with it.

"It was boring," is his simple answer, no bark nor bite.

"My face isn't, then?" Oikawa's got no energy to feel embarrassed at confirming that Futakuchi _does_ know he's been staring. He knows it's just teasing, the usual flirting, no harm meant. "Am I so handsome that you couldn't focus on the movie?" 

Now that Oikawa's back to himself, though barely, he notices that the bowl between them is empty, and he's lucky an excuse has presented itself. He rolls his eyes and makes to get up, get some more popcorn, get them drinks, or just get.. away from this.

Oikawa refuses to look, but he just knows Futakuchi is smirking to himself again.

"Shut up or I'll kiss you," Oikawa mumbles, exhausted, standing up and crossing in front of Futakuchi where he is still seated. He realizes he's forgotten his excuse to get away and bends over slightly to grab the bowl beside Futakuchi, but his wrist is grabbed instead.

"Do it then."

He's still teasing. Still flirting. Still challenging. Still joking.

It was supposed to be funny, and it was, really, until it wasn't anymore.

In that brief moment, the music of the movie credits rolling in the background fades out into white noise, and the thud of the bowl falling to the floor is loud, but even louder is the pounding of Oikawa's heart in his chest when Futakuchi pulls him down the same moment he surges up to kiss him.

This doesn't make sense. This isn't funny. They've never taken their teasing this far.

But if this is the first time, and the last time, that Oikawa's ever going to get this chance, then fucking _fuck everything._

Oikawa doesn't act taken aback, even if he kind of is, because now that Futakuchi is pulling him down and onto his lap, there is no way he's going to do anything on purpose that's going to make Futakuchi push him away.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty hair, but now he can confirm that it _is_ soft, when he runs his fingers through the brown strands. He doesn't dare tug, only dares to touch, to revel in the softness, and it's unfair.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty eyes, but now, as he opens his own, he is met with fluttering eyelashes and half-hooded lids and a dark look that he's never seen before, and it's unfair.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty fingers, but now that they're clenched around his wrist and making a path along his back, then traveling just under the hem of his shirt, he can't believe just how much strength is in them, and it's unfair.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty lips, but now that they're so deeply pressed against his own, moving and parting and closing and _there_ , he finally knows how soft they are and how they taste on his tongue, and that pretty mouth is letting out all these breaths and sounds, and it's unfair.

As all these thoughts flash and run through Oikawa's head, rival the feeling of just how amazing and _unreal_ kissing Futakuchi is, Futakuchi is pulling back before Oikawa is ready.

That brief second of him seeing Futakuchi's eyes not meeting his because of their focus on Oikawa's lips, and seeing how wet Futakuchi's are-- it is too little, then it is enough, then it is too much, all at the same time.

Oikawa breaks, caves, gives up, gives in, dives in for more. Futakuchi lets him, holds him, lets him curl into his body. 

Futakuchi keeps him in a tight hold in his arms, and as Oikawa desperately tries to get closer, even if it's just impossible at this point, he feels safe, and he doesn't know if he's ever gonna want to let go.

He wishes Futakuchi feels the same way, about not wanting to let go either, and Oikawa can fool himself into believing it, too, if only for how Futakuchi is kissing him back just as hard and just as bad and just as much.

Oikawa is feeling lightheaded now, and it's unfair.

He parts from Futakuchi, and there is no time to bask in the feeling, to float in the high, because it only takes one second-- and he is not surprised when Futakuchi looks away, slightly turning his head to the side so he doesn't meet Oikawa's eyes, or so Oikawa doesn't kiss him anymore. Either or.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty hair, but now it's a mess ruffled in all directions and it was all his doing.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty eyes, but now they aren't even looking at him and it was all his doing.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty fingers, but now they've gone completely still and frozen and they hover awkwardly over where they were touching and it was all his doing.

Oikawa had just been thinking about Futakuchi's pretty lips, but now they're too far and too sealed and too quiet and it was all his doing.

Oikawa's eyes sting, his throat tight, and Futakuchi nudges him in the smallest of actions, and it's enough for Oikawa to understand that he's being told to get off of him, to stop, to get away, to go.

All _as if_ it weren't Futakuchi who took the joke seriously and told Oikawa to do it and pulled him into his lap and kissed him first, and it's unfair.

Oikawa grabs the bowl that had fallen in his desperation, goes to the kitchen, washes his hands, tries to clear his head. There isn't a need for more popcorn or for drinks-- the movie is over and so is whatever just happened.

No more looks and no more words are exchanged for that night, and Oikawa simply leaves, because that's what he's supposed to do. That's what he was supposed to do the moment he'd started thinking about Futakuchi's hair and eyes and fingers and lips in the first place.

The next Friday, it is Futakuchi who invites Oikawa over for a movie. There are no jokes about a date this time.

There is a strain, the back and forth and the bickering and the flirting and the teasing, these were all normal, and these were funny, but it is not as funny as they were supposed to be.

They don't talk about what happened last week.

They don't kiss that night like they did last week.

Many Fridays pass after that, and they don't ever really kiss again.


	4. 💝 you're a nice surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. throwing their arms around the other person, holding them close while they kiss

To say Oikawa is surprised and shell-shocked as hell would be an understatement.

After all, why does Futakuchi have his arms thrown over Oikawa's shoulders, and why is Futakuchi holding him close like this, and why are Futakuchi's lips on him at this very moment?

They kiss, a lot, and they mess around, a lot, but this-- this is very high up on the list of things Futakuchi has done that's caught him off guard. And that's a pretty long list!

Isn't this position a little too intimate? A little too romantic for what they are-- or _aren't_? And what, in public, too?

Sure, going out for a nice dinner tonight instead of just going straight to Futakuchi's bedroom was a nice change of pace. And sure, getting called for a night out by Matsukawa and Hanamaki and being allowed to bring Futakuchi along was also something new.

But suddenly getting pulled to a stop as they were walking and suddenly being held still in Futakuchi's arms and suddenly having Futakuchi's mouth on him.. right where they were on the sidewalk by the bar... was entirely something else.

Oikawa's brain is rightfully fried at this point, and if not because of Futakuchi's breath against his lips, it's because of him forgetting to breathe himself.

Futakuchi's arms wrap around his neck even tighter now. Oikawa wishes being kissed like this out in the cold felt romantic, but he's getting dizzy, from the tight hold Futakuchi has around him and the difficulty in breathing and the thoughts in a whirlwind in his head.

Kissing... like this... wasn't... in their... terms--

"Yo," he hears from behind himself, after a wolf-whistle, and it can only be Matsukawa. "What's going on here?"

Oikawa feels Futakuchi lift one arm up, and as he opens his eyes and strains to get a glimpse at what Futakuchi is doing without parting from him, he realizes Futakuchi's hand is probably set in a silent order to wait.

"Making out, really?" It's Hanamaki's voice this time. "Out here?"

Oikawa wants to argue that _no_ , this isn't making out, because he can't even use his tongue like he wants to, and he's about to mourn the loss of his chance to explain something he doesn't even understand himself, when finally, Futakuchi releases him-- his arms and his lips gone in one go.

Oikawa catches his breath, feels his chest protest at how big the breaths he wants to take in are, but Futakuchi is standing there and showing no signs at all that he'd just kissed the living daylights out of Oikawa. 

Futakuchi is looking somewhere over Oikawa's shoulder, probably even past Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

He's about to turn around to get a look himself, but Futakuchi takes him by his chin and leaves one last peck on his lips. "Thanks."

He hears Hanamaki laughing at how Oikawa has just spluttered in response, but Futakuchi just shrugs.

"I saw an ex," he offers in explanation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Fucker was about to walk over."

Oikawa ignores whatever it is in his chest that deflated at the clarification, bringing a fist up to punch him on one shoulder. "Ask me properly next time, damn it!"

Matsukawa and Hanamaki straight up guffaw, putting one arm each around Oikawa when he walks away from Futakuchi and starts on their way to the bar.

He doesn't check to see if Futakuchi is following after them or not, but when Hanamaki lets him go and drags Matsukawa away from him so that they could check the menu out for all of them at the entrance, he feels feather-light touches at the back of his neck.

"Sorry." Futakuchi's voice is stupidly soft, and Oikawa hates that he'd already forgiven him before he even apologized. He wasn't even really angry to begin with.

"Always glad to help," is Oikawa's cheerful answer, because it's true, and if it meant not having someone from Futakuchi's past come and interfere with their messy present, then he would gladly let Futakuchi kiss him like that, again and again. He throws a peace sign up and sticks his tongue out. "You owe me, though!"

Futakuchi's big laugh warms him right up, the cold of the night be damned.


	5. 💺 for you i would take my time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. hands on the other person's back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss and gasp

Oikawa doesn't remember what it was or how it ended up like this, or maybe he does, but it isn't easy to admit so easily that this was something they both wanted to happen.

Futakuchi is the type of bastard who spreads his legs on the couch and has his arms thrown over the backrest and takes over as much space on the stupid furniture as he can, as if this were his rightful place and not Oikawa's.

Futakuchi is the type of bastard who sits still but looks handsome doing absolutely _nothing_ and has this voice that makes Oikawa's insides melt and takes over as much space in his stupid head as he can, as if this were his rightful heart and not Oikawa's.

Maybe he had shifted closer and slumped down, and maybe he had leaned his head back against the inside of Futakuchi's arm, and maybe he'd turned to whisper a comment into Futakuchi's ear about the reality show they'd been watching. Maybe Futakuchi had shifted closer, too, and maybe he had started playing with Oikawa's hair, and maybe he'd turned that exact same moment Oikawa did.

Maybe it was Oikawa who had leaned up or maybe it was Futakuchi who had leaned down, but their lips are pressed together and their tongues are sliding against each other now, and even if they're the same height, Oikawa feels himself shrink at just how much attention Futakuchi is kissing him with.

Futakuchi crowds over him, lifting himself so he's got his knees on either side of Oikawa's thighs, moving his arms from the backrest to hold himself up as he tilts his head to the side so he can kiss him deeper. Futakuchi doesn't sit down, doesn't straddle, doesn't settle on Oikawa's lap, because that isn't something he would do.

When Futakuchi so much as pulls back a little, Oikawa strains his neck to reach and keep their lips locked. Even when Oikawa tugs at the collar of Futakuchi's shirt to pull him back down and closer, it has no effect, because Futakuchi's arms keep him up, and Oikawa almost hates just how strong he is.

But Oikawa's pride also wants to make itself known, that he's strong, too, no matter how weak in the knees Futakuchi makes him feel.

Snaking his arms over Futakuchi's waist, he tries to caress there, the firmness of his sides and the warmth of his skin through the layer of his clothes. He lets his hands travel farther and settles them on the small of Futakuchi's back, palms heavy but fingers light.

Futakuchi doesn't protest at this, and as if knowing what was just on Oikawa's mind, and as if to rile him up even more and remind him again of his strength, he takes one hand off of the couch and balances himself on just the other, only so he could rest his fingers at the back of Oikawa's neck.

All this without breaking away, Oikawa is left to wonder what kind of strength Futakuchi's knees have to be keeping himself upright when Oikawa's this close to shaking already.

As a last resort to getting even at a stupid competition he's made up only in his head, Oikawa slips his hands under Futakuchi's shirt, scratches at the small strip of the bare skin he's touching for the very first time, and, to Oikawa's utter surprise and delight, Futakuchi shakes, breaks away from Oikawa's lips, gasps a breath onto his mouth, and falls onto his lap.

Oikawa wants to smirk, to tease, at having found what looks to be a weakness on Futakuchi's side, but Futakuchi is suddenly grasping both of Oikawa's hands in his and dragging them away from his body.

"Keep your hands to yourself," is what Futakuchi bites out, and before Oikawa even has the chance to wonder if what he'd just done crossed a line, had no consent, was a breach of boundaries, Futakuchi is kissing him again.

Oikawa keeps his hands lax where Futakuchi's have them pinned down at their sides, and this time he slows down his kisses, too, in case he does something wrong again.

"Next time," Futakuchi tries in incoherent explanation against Oikawa's lips. "You can do that another time."

Oikawa just hums in barely any understanding, but when Futakuchi's hands let his go and instead reach back up to keep touching his neck, he decides he's also just not gonna think about it anymore.

Futakuchi, after all, says that there is a next time. Oikawa can do that another time.


	6. 🌅 like a rose full in bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. lazy morning kisses before they've even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

Oikawa thinks he's dreaming, but it isn't a very good dream, in his opinion.

A good dream would have him getting milk bread from everyone in his stupid friend group instead of him getting everyone different orders of ramen for once.

Instead, what he sees right now is black-- although he's sure there is bright sunlight shining right against his eyelids. He decides against opening his eyes so he doesn't accidentally blind himself.

There is a scent unfamiliar to him, and the sheets under him feel much softer than he's used to. The pillow under his head is also not his favorite fluffy one. This really isn't a good dream so far.

When he feels fingers tracing lightly along his face, he changes his mind just a little. He doesn't jolt in surprise or fear. After all, whoever is touching him must be someone he's dreamed up again. He wonders which one of them it is this morning, because even in a dream, the fingers feel thin, but rough, and gentle, but strong.

When a finger gives a tap to his nose, he scrunches it in fake displeasure, and the quiet laugh he hears after that is.. an unfamiliar voice as well. Whoever his dream lover is this morning, they must be whipped for him or something.

Oikawa will admit he's acting cute on purpose, because no grown and sane man would pout like this after being laughed at, but if it gets him an apologetic and soothing thumb to his lips, he's the actual winner here.

"Kiss," Oikawa asks, making sure his voice is soft, never mind that it's actually raspy and his throat feels extremely dry from sleep.

He refuses to open his eyes because he doesn't want his dream to end yet. Maybe this time he'd actually get a kiss before he wakes up--

"A kiss?" Whoever this is has leaned down close enough that their breath fans against Oikawa's mouth. "You haven't even woken up properly and you're already asking for so much."

Oikawa does not have the time nor the braincells to try to process where he'd heard this voice before, because a kiss is still a kiss, and when his lips are met with another pair, warm and soft and perfect, he of course only has the sanity to kiss back.

"Shut up," Oikawa tries to mumble, knowing well he isn't even half coherent, but that laugh is back again, and it's almost infuriating if not for the softest way they're kissing him still.

This really isn't a good dream, in Oikawa's opinion, because if it were a good dream, he'd be smothered in blankets and hugs and kisses by now, not _laughed_ at again. If it were a good dream, his dream lover wouldn't pull away and stop kissing him to flick at his forehead.

"Get up, loser."

"Don't wanna," Oikawa easily answers, ignoring the insult, because he can just continue sleeping and dream up another person if they're not gonna keep kissing him. _Fuck whoever this is!_

No voice responds to him anymore, so Oikawa settles into the nice smelling pillow and the nice feeling sheets-- but there is a ringing of a phone somewhere in the room, and Oikawa can't be bothered to wonder why it doesn't sound like his ringtone.

"Yeah, no, I'm at home," that same voice says, and Oikawa freezes. "I took him home, don't worry-- what do you mean, who? You're the one who introduced us to each other last night." The exasperation is thick in his voice. "No! We didn't do anything!" Very defensive, too.

_Shit_ , is the first thing Oikawa thinks when he opens his eyes to see a ceiling that he's never seen before.

_Shit_ , is also the second thing Oikawa thinks when he sees a guy at the foot of the bed _that isn't his._

_Shit_ , is also the third thing Oikawa thinks when he recognizes that brown hair from last night.

And _shit,_ is also the fourth thing Oikawa thinks when Futakuchi hangs his phone up and turns to look at him. "You're up."

Oikawa keeps silent, eyes adjusting to the sunlight suffusing through the open windows and the light in Futakuchi's eyes as he watches him sit up.

"There's breakfast outside if you don't have to leave immediately." Futakuchi stands, walks the small distance to where Oikawa is, ruffles his hair. "Your hair is all messy." And then there's a kiss to his forehead. "Good morning."

No wonder it wasn't a good dream. It wasn't a dream at all.


	7. 📖 i romanticize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. routine kisses where the other presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they're doing

Futakuchi is stupidly an early riser, even on Sunday mornings. Or is it _especially_ on Sunday mornings? Or is it _just_ on Sunday mornings?

Because Saturday nights are reserved for the two of them to spend together, have been reserved for over three months; that's eleven? Twelve? Sundays Oikawa has woken up alone in bed only to see the desk lamp turned on in Futakuchi's room.

Despite the lack of clothes, he doesn't feel cold when he starts gaining more of his consciousness back, because whether Futakuchi does it on purpose or not, the blanket is always tucked safe and warm around Oikawa when he wakes up. It would be something to smile about, if Oikawa weren't always so touch-starved in the morning and would rather have arms around him than some blanket that isn't even his.

Besides, once their nights together turn into mornings, Oikawa loses any right to ask for anything more from Futakuchi.

Oikawa sits up in bed, tries to be as quiet as possible when he starts bending down to pick his clothes up off the floor, putting them on slowly. They're all creased, so he takes his time smoothing his hands over them, as if that would have any effect. He doesn't think about the impossibility of asking to borrow Futakuchi's clothes.

He watches the back of Futakuchi's head, his hair still a rumpled mess, and as he straightens his back to stretch from his slumped position over his desk, Oikawa decides to get on with the usual morning-after-teasing.

"You're always up so early," Oikawa comments, buttoning his shirt up.

Futakuchi scoffs. "I waste enough time on you," he retorts, flipping his textbook to a different page. Still, he explains, "Have an exam coming up."

Oikawa laughs. "So mean, Futakuchi-chan."

Futakuchi uncaps his highlighter and keeps his eyes on his book. "Don't call me that."

"You always say that in the mornings!" Oikawa pouts. "You never complain about it at night."

Even though he can't see, Oikawa is sure Futakuchi's just rolled his eyes. He considers this a small success. Everything has, after all, become a weekly routine, including this.

"Anyway," Oikawa singsongs, standing up from the bed and walking towards Futakuchi at his desk. "You're studying too hard."

Futakuchi doesn't spare him even one glance. "Not everyone can rely on sports scholarships to survive college like you, idiot."

Oikawa fakes a hurt gasp. "Okay, future engineer or archeologist or something. You could easily apply for and get a scholarship for volleyball, too--"

"It's _architect_ and I'm going to kick you out if you don't leave me alone so I can focus."

Oikawa laughs once more, a hearty one this time, and he reaches down to run fingers lightly through Futakuchi's soft brown hair. "I'll get going."

Futakuchi lets out a small grunt of acknowledgement, putting on an act of relief that Oikawa's finally leaving, but not before sitting straighter in his chair and tilting his head to one side.

Honestly, how is Oikawa going to refuse a silent request for their weekly goodbye kiss when Futakuchi is presenting his cheek all soft and open while highlighting a long line in the middle of his book?

Oikawa leans down to place a peck on his cheek, then whisper-asks, "See you next Saturday?"

As if Oikawa needed any confirmation. "Yeah," Futakuchi breathes out, though distracted still as he puts his highlighter down and grabs a pencil instead. "See you."

Oikawa hums as he takes his leave, and if he smiles to himself once the door is closed behind him, Futakuchi doesn't have to know.


	8. 🌃 when the feeling is right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward

"Aren't we there yet?"

"No, are you a kid," Futakuchi grumbles. Oikawa pouts. "It isn't for a few more streets."

"If I had known you were going to drag me out this long, I would have worn something cozier." Oikawa pulls his coat tighter around himself and rubs his bare hands together. "Buy me a warm drink."

"Iwaizumi-san told you I was coming to pick you up," Futakuchi says, as if that's any excuse for Oikawa to have been dragged out into the cold. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Why is it Iwaizumi- _san_ for him but just Oikawa for me? Plus, I wasn't paying attention," Oikawa mumbles, looks away when Futakuchi raises an eyebrow at him. He wouldn't be caught dead admitting he was too excited to go out to meet Futakuchi the moment Iwa-chan told him he was coming that he practically didn't hear anything else. "And anyway, I thought we were going straight to your place."

"Tch." Futakuchi grabs one of Oikawa's hands. They're close enough that it doesn't feel awkward, and the way Futakuchi's gloved fingers rub over the back of his hand makes him wish he wouldn't be letting go any time soon.

Futakuchi isn't looking at him, probably embarrassed by the gesture, but Oikawa would be, too.

"I take you out on a proper date for the first time and your dumbass doesn't wear warm clothes." Oikawa wants to make fun of how angry Futakuchi is acting except his brain has a hard time catching up with something he'd just said. _Did he just say_ \-- "Iwaizumi-san told you I was going to take you out, right? What were you expecting? Of course it would be cold, it's the middle of fucking winter--"

"Did you just say a _date_?" Even if he stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and by connection of his hand in Futakuchi's, makes him stop as well, and even if they have people maneuvering around them in annoyance, Oikawa couldn't bring himself to care. "Was this a date?"

"Is," Futakuchi corrects, but he shakes Oikawa's hand impatiently and then throws it back at Oikawa as if it weren't an actual part of his body. "But forget it."

There are suddenly a hundred things running through Oikawa's mind all at once. One of those is that this kind of fluster is uncharacteristic of Futakuchi, and the way he's walking away as if to leave Oikawa freezing in the middle of a cold night even more so. Another thing is that he shouldn't be letting Futakuchi run away right after he's just said something like that!

"Where were we supposed to be going?" He's jogging now to keep up with Futakuchi's mild stomping.

"That stupid NASA exhibit your stupid ass hasn't been to because your stupid head likes stars, you stupid piece of shit."

Oikawa gets it, he's _stupid_ , he _gets_ it! Futakuchi doesn't have to keep saying it! "But I thought--"

"What, can't we fuck _after_ the date?" Futakuchi runs a hand over his face, still stalking away. "This is so _stupid--"_

"You should have told me!"

Futakuchi's only remaining reply is the exasperated breath he lets out, and then there's only silence between the two of them for the rest of the walk to the exhibit, and when they finally get there, Oikawa is nearly out of breath.

There is no line or crowd outside the building, but the poster there informs Oikawa that they're around 20 minutes late to the start of what looked to be an exhibit show. And all because Oikawa kept complaining and stopping when they were on the way there.

If this really was-- _is_ a date, Futakuchi must have planned this to some extent, and now he's standing in front of the poster as if everything is ruined. It probably is. Oikawa probably ruined it.

He carefully approaches Futakuchi, coming to stand between him and the poster, eyes meeting Futakuchi's. "Hey."

"They don't allow late entrance," Futakuchi whispers, sounding like an apology he doesn't need to say. "You can go home if you like--"

"Sorry," Oikawa cuts off, trying his best to really get some of his sincerity across. Futakuchi's jaw unclenches at once and his shoulders relax, and any anger or annoyance fades from Futakuchi's face.

"It's fine." Futakuchi isn't smiling, but Oikawa sure feels warmer now.

"I can make it up to you," Oikawa says now, feeling a little shy, a bit ridiculous, very stupid, because he is. "For a proper first date, there has to be a proper first kiss, right? So--"

"Close your eyes then."

Of course, Futakuchi beats him to it, and of course, Oikawa's eyes slip closed. Futakuchi's lips are chapped and cold when they meet Oikawa's. There is no tongue, no tilting of heads, no biting-- just a press of lips on lips, so unlike any of the kisses they've shared thus far.

If the world were to freeze forever, at this moment, Oikawa thinks he wouldn't mind. Futakuchi was right. He really _is_ stupid.

Oikawa feels Futakuchi smile against his lips before he pulls away.

Overwhelmed with emotion and yet unable to smile himself, he keeps his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths in. It isn't that he doesn't want to open them, it's just that he doesn't know if he can. The cold continues to nip at his cheeks but the tingles he feels from his face all the way to the tips of his fingers are warm.

"There's another show in about an hour." It is only at the sound of Futakuchi's voice that he finally opens his eyes. Met with Futakuchi's stupid hair and stupid eyes and stupid lips, Oikawa thinks Futakuchi is pretty stupid himself too if this-- Fufakuchi taking him out and holding his hand and kissing him like that-- means what he thinks it does.

They can have a proper talk about this later, he decides, after a proper second and third kiss, on their proper first date. "We'll wait, then."


	9. 🍻 take you in like the air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other

Spin the bottle is Oikawa's favorite party game.

He doesn't care if it's clichéd, Western, or just straight up for losers. If Oikawa is given the excuse to get his fill of kisses _and_ with cute people who consent to it, why the hell not?

Oikawa definitely doesn't want to kiss that one cute classmate specifically though, that's for sure. Who would want to kiss Futakuchi Kenji? With his soft brown hair and his sharp brown eyes and his cute pink lips--

Oikawa definitely doesn't want to kiss Futakuchi Kenji. He's just drunk.

This is what he chants in his head after he gets his fifth kiss, this time from Kuroo Tetsurou from another major. Kuroo is an amazing kisser!

He doesn't think about how Futakuchi probably knows how to kiss better, as he watches from across the circle as Semi-san all but sits on his lap as they kiss. The rule was to kiss, not to make out, but Oikawa would understand if they couldn't hold back. He doesn't know how he's done that for so long himself either.

Everyone in the entire circle takes their turns, ranging from cute pecks on the cheek to full on tongue down someone's throat. _Okay_ , maybe Oikawa is exaggerating, but he's six? Seven? Shots in and that's exactly how it looks to him.

He gets one last kiss from Sawamura-san before everyone gets bored and leaves little by little, and if Oikawa stays, it's only because he's feeling a little lazy, hazy, and not because he sees that across from him, Futakuchi hasn't left yet.

Because Oikawa definitely doesn't want to kiss Futakuchi Kenji. Who would want to kiss their seatmate who always snickers when the professor calls Oikawa out for sleeping instead of waking him up before he was caught? And in the first place, why were they in the same class? He knows Futakuchi is younger than him.

Ah, but they also have classmates who are older than them, and those who are even younger than Futakuchi, so maybe that isn't a mystery after all. But why is Futakuchi literally the type to sit beside Oikawa all the time even though there wasn't a fixed seating arrangement in their class? Just to make fun of him when he forgets his textbook, and just to tell him the wrong instructions when he asks, and just to kick his pen farther when it falls to the floor? Are they in _gradeschool_?

Futakuchi Kenji is unnecessarily mean and Oikawa's drunk brain isn't drunk enough to admit that it's because of that damned handsome smirk and amusement-filled eyes that he lets Futakuchi bully him in the first place. Alright, so maybe "bully" is a heavy word, but--

"You wanna kiss?"

Oikawa blinks, very very slowly, being pulled out from his drunk in-head rambling by the voice that muffled everything else at the dwindling party. His eyes follow when Futakuchi nods towards the bottle on the floor, pointing in his direction.

Oikawa asks back, because he doesn't want to say yes, " _You_ wanna kiss?"

He definitely doesn't wanna kiss Futakuchi Kenji, but kisses are kisses, he supposes, and the six he's gotten is nowhere near enough, so he clumsily crawls the distance between them to reach him. The bottle knocks against his knees but he couldn't care less.

When he's close enough to Futakuchi where Futakuchi is sitting, who's leaned back on the palm of his hands, all open and waiting, Oikawa leans forward and leaves the smallest, shortest, lightest little peck on his mouth.

In the split second that Oikawa moves away and starts regretting his action, Futakuchi has sat up straighter and put one hand on the back of Oikawa's neck. "You call that a kiss?"

And then Futakuchi is pressing his mouth againts Oikawa's-- no modesty with how he's immediately pushed his tongue past Oikawa's lips.

Oikawa shouldn't be surprised; he _saw_ how Futakuchi kissed everyone else just a few moments earlier tonight. But being on the receiving end of it is a whole different experience. Futakuchi knows just how to trace along the roof of Oikawa's mouth without tickling, knows just how to give Oikawa's tongue little sucks without overdoing, knows just how to bite at Oikawa's lower lip and pull with his teeth without hurting, knows just how to swallow all the little sounds Oikawa is making.

Oikawa shouldn't be surprised, but he is, because Futakuchi is kissing him like he wants to devour him or something, and at this point Oikawa would honestly let him. He thinks that even if he were sober, he wouldn't be at this level. He's never kissed anyone like this, has never been kissed by anyone like this either.

Oikawa struggles to keep himself up from the sheer force of Futakuchi pushing against him. He wonders if anyone is watching, wonders if they make a pretty sight, wonders if he'll ever ever get to take a breath again and not think about how Futakuchi has stolen his.

Futakuchi's lips might be swollen by the time he stops and pulls away. Oikawa thinks his own must be bruised, misses the heat already, wishes Futakuchi would soothe the tingles on his mouth.

Oikawa wishes he were drunk enough, because then he would pull Futakuchi up by his hand and lead him to the bathroom so they can keep making out in private, and maybe other things, too. But he _isn't_ drunk enough, so he stays rooted to where his ass has fallen to the floor, even when Futakuchi is already standing up to leave him there. "That's how you kiss, got it?"

Oikawa doesn't _got it_ , thank you very much.

Oikawa definitely doesn't want to kiss Futakuchi Kenji.

Being kissed by Futakuchi Kenji, though? That might be a different thing altogether.


	10. 📓 you can tell by my eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. staring at the other's lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in

Studying with Futakuchi was a bad idea.

Not only was it a bad idea because it was him who'd practically begged for Futakuchi's help, but moreso because Futakuchi hasn't helped him out the entire afternoon, not one bit.

Across their shared library desk, Futakuchi is keeping to himself, and every time Oikawa asks a question, all he gets as answer is to _just read it again in the handouts._

In hindsight, it was his fault for not paying attention during the lecture all those weeks ago, because that was prerequisite knowledge for everything else now, but he also has Futakuchi to blame because that was the day he was so distracted by the tattoo on the back of Futakuchi's neck. So really, this is also Futakuchi's fault and Oikawa demands he take responsibility.

(The way he's making up excuses in his head right now instead of actually focusing and trying to study is exactly the reason he needs help, but now he's not so sure.)

From this up close, he just watches as Futakuchi reads, and because he's got his head tilted down, Oikawa can see his eyelashes. They're pretty every time they fan across his lids when he blinks, and even prettier when they flutter after a stifled yawn.

This thought doesn't come as a surprise to him anymore, not when he'd known he was whipped the moment he'd chased Futakuchi out of their classroom and _building_ that first time. Oikawa isn't in the mood to deny how badly he's crushing.

What does come as a surprise to him though is just how many times he's had to physically keep his hands to himself so he doesn't end up doing something stupid like reaching across the table to either touch Futakuchi's hand or ruffle his hair, and even if Futakuchi's very clearly flirted with him through text and whenever they'd see each other in or out of class, he isn't sure if that kind of touch is exactly allowed.

Above all that, the one thing he's wanted to do since they've taken their seats was feel for himself just how soft Futakuchi's lips are. (Terrible of Oikawa, really.)

Futakuchi's got a bad habit of scratching at his bottom lip when he's frustrated, revealed to Oikawa when they'd started actually sitting next to each other in class, and revealed to Oikawa now when Futakuchi's underlined the same words over and over again. He really shouldn't do that, because the skin looks tender and any more will make it tear a bit, but he thinks Futakuchi doesn't even notice that he does it. (What's worse is that Oikawa thinks that if Futakuchi ends up breaking skin, he wonders if he would let him kiss it better.)

"--this part?"

Oikawa hardly notices that Futakuchi is looking up at him now, hardly hears what the question was.

"Hello?"

Oikawa has given up on trying to make his brain work at this point so he doesn't have any shame left either-- not to answer to Futakuchi, and certainly not to look away from the darker red spot on Futakuchi's bottom lip where he had only now stopped picking at.

"What are you staring at?" Futakuchi's voice sounds a little muffled in the daze that Oikawa's accidentally put himself in, the movement around the words he says put in slow motion.

"I'm not staring," (Oikawa is very blatantly still staring at Futakuchi's mouth when he replies.)

"You need to focus."

"I _am_ focusing." (Maybe not on the lesson, but..) He swears he is.

When a sigh slips past Futakuchi's lips, Oikawa finally gives in, control and common sense lost, even to him, as he leans forward and presses his mouth to Futakuchi's for the briefest second.

Oikawa doesn't bother looking up when he pulls away, eyes lowered and zoomed in on the notes in front of him. His heart is beating too fast and his hands are shaking a little and the text is swirling on the pages, and he can't believe he'd stolen a kiss from Futakuchi, and this is gonna be the death of him for sure.

"Tch," he hears Futakuchi above him, across from him, too close. "Just ask next time."

When Oikawa snaps his head up at that, it's to see Futakuchi already going back to his own notes. The small smile playing at his lips, almost hidden, is something that makes Oikawa's brain short-circuit but also makes his heart flutter in his chest.

"Okay," Oikawa whispers, and if he was having a hard time studying then, he's definitely going to have a harder time now, because now he doesn't know how to stop thinking about kissing Futakuchi again.


	11. 🎛️ colors they show through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. when one stops the kiss to whisper "I'm sorry, are you sure you--" and they answer by kissing them more

"You're here...?" Oikawa raises an eyebrow as he tears his eyes away from the television across from him, only half-startled from Futakuchi entering his apartment so casually.

"Glad you haven't blinded yourself from watching tv in the dark," Futakuchi replies, and though Oikawa knows that this was supposed to be sarcasm, his voice is lacking its usual bite and teasing, and Oikawa is worried for just two seconds before he remembers why he was sitting in his living room alone in the first place.

Oikawa tries for a smirk. "What, date didn't go well?"

"It wasn't a date," Futakuchi answers back, getting some irritation back in his voice. He's toed his shoes off at the entryway and is making his way to the couch, sitting beside Oikawa like he never needed any invitation nor permission.

Seated close together like this, he can see a bruised red mark on Futakuchi's neck, and Oikawa wonders why he's in such a bad mood if he had a good night.

"What are you watching?"

Futakuchi's attempt at changing the subject flies over Oikawa's head as he leans closer and openly peers at the hickey on Futakuchi's skin. When he lifts a finger to poke at it, Futakuchi hisses.

"The fuck are you doing?"

"The fuck were _you_ doing?" Oikawa laughs. "Wasn't a good lay?"

Futakuchi rolls his eyes but doesn't pull away from the finger Oikawa has soothing over the mark. "Terrible."

Oikawa lets out a little breath of a laugh, and before he's even really thought of the shit he's about to say, he's already said it out loud. "Want me to kiss you better?"

It's an offer that bears no response for all of three seconds as Futakuchi eyes him warily, but he shrugs anyway and turns his attention back to the screen. "Do what you want."

In no time, Oikawa is already mouthing at Futakuchi's neck, breathing in the smell of fresh soap, as if Futakuchi had been so disgusted by whomever he was with that he really had to wash them off of his person, and the thought of that is more appealing to Oikawa than he would be willing to admit.

Futakuchi makes no move to push Oikawa away even when he's latched onto the very same patch of skin that was already bruising, and his groan is the only indication that he was okay with this. Or not.

When Futakuchi has one hand resting on the back of Oikawa's head, to pull him back or to push him closer to his neck, he simply licks over the mark he's made sure to make darker before he lifts off of the skin.

Oikawa thinks Futakuchi still looks as hot-headed and pissed as when he first entered, so he sits back in his original place and crosses his arms. "What's wrong with you?"

"What _is_ wrong with me?" The unexpectedly quiet answer surprises Oikawa enough to lift his back off of the couch and lean forward, turning his head to look at Futakuchi. He tries to observe his facial expressions more closely like this, but Futakuchi's jaw is tense and his eyebrows are furrowed. "Just kiss me better already, Oikawa."

Oikawa carefully tilts Futakuchi's face by his chin so they're face to face before he presses a gentle kiss on his lips.

Futakuchi barely responds to the touch, slack and unmoving, even when Oikawa parts his lips and swipes his tongue along the soft of his lower lip, but even then, he was asked for this and he isn't being pushed away, and for all of the times they'd _actually_ kissed each other better, Futakuchi is acting the most passive Oikawa's ever seen or felt him be.

When Oikawa hums against Futakuchi's mouth and still gets nothing, he pulls back. "I'm sorry," Oikawa whispers, feeling like he's just done something wrong even if the little rationality he has left in his brain is convincing him otherwise. Oikawa only notices now that Futakuchi's eyes have glossed over, blown wide, as if he weren't expecting Oikawa to just suddenly stop when he was getting nothing in return. "Are you sure you--"

It's Futakuchi who kisses him this time, no longer bored or quiet-- he puts a hand on Oikawa's chest to push him so his back meets with one arm of the couch. He leans over Oikawa like this, his body a pleasant weight on top of him, and he can breathe again, because Futakuchi still wants this, still wants him, if he dare to dream of or wish for it.

And then Futakuchi is the one who has his mouth pressed on the side of Oikawa's neck, the one who bites and sucks at the soft skin there, the one who groans as if he were on the receiving end of being marked. Oikawa looks down and from this angle he can only see the top of Futakuchi's head as he works his tongue and teeth lower along his bare collar.

Any leftover thought of whoever had pissed Futakuchi off tonight or let him down or didn't make him feel good is forgotten in the way he pins Oikawa under him, and he doesn't complain, because he would really rather forget, and he would really rather not know anyway.


	12. 🚪 see it through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. a hoarse whisper "kiss me"

"Where are you going?"

Oikawa hates the way he has to put a lot of effort into making sure his voice doesn't waver, doesn't break, doesn't shake the way his fingers are, even when they're closed so tight into fists that his nails are digging into his palm.

At the foot of the bed, Futakuchi doesn't answer him. He puts his shirt on after his pants like it's the most normal thing to do, then his socks and shoes, like it's the most natural thing to do, and on most mornings it would be-- normal and natural.

But this _isn't_ most mornings, because this is the morning after they'd slept with their backs to each other, the morning after the night Oikawa said they should just break up after barely even a month of being boyfriends.

"Answer me," Oikawa says, louder, because Futakuchi isn't offering up any answer, even when Oikawa is sure he can hear him loud and clear, the smallest flinch of his shoulders and the slightest stilling of his fingers where they're tying his shoe laces the only barest of indications.

Oikawa stays where he is, seated at the headboard of their bed, and Futakuchi stays where he is, too, slouched even when he finishes lacing his shoes up.

"Where are you going?" If Oikawa's eyes start blurring from tears, he doesn't care. If he wants to cry, he's going to cry all the fuck he wants, because he'd said something he didn't mean, and Futakuchi had made absolutely zero protest to anything.

In the haze of his rude awakening, Oikawa remembers being angry with Futakuchi last night, being jealous of someone he can't even remember the name of, being scared that after an entire year of dancing around each other when they so obviously have feelings and deciding that they could finally try to commit, they would still find a way to fuck everything up.

Or at least Oikawa would, and he did. He fucked it up with a simple "Let's just break up."

Oikawa remembers that Futakuchi hadn't fought him, hadn't fought for them, hadn't said anything to disagree or argue except his hoarse whisper of _kiss me._

Oikawa had kissed him, and pushed Futakuchi away when he'd tried to pull Oikawa closer for any more, and then they'd slept with the unspoken promise of Futakuchi leaving first thing in the morning.

But now the morning has come and Oikawa is dizzy and Futakuchi is standing up and--

Oikawa doesn't have it in himself to get up and go after Futakuchi even when he's literally four steps away from his door.

Oikawa tries for a whisper of his own, while Futakuchi is still within hearing range, close enough and yet already too far away, voice coming out hoarse from pent up emotion. "Kiss me," like Futakuchi asked last night.

Futakuchi at least turns to look at him, the first direct response he's gotten all morning, but there are no words, no closing of the distance between them. There is only a smile, guarded and unreadable, and the only kiss Oikawa gets is the back of his hand to his mouth to try to muffle his sobs when Futakuchi closes the door behind himself when he leaves.


	13. 🌧️ when you're touching like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13\. following the kiss with a series of kisses down the neck

"Oikawa-san," Futakuchi calls, and Oikawa, for the life of him, cannot _stand_ to look at him.

"Put your clothes on," Oikawa begs, more for his sanity than for Futakuchi's shivering in the cold of the airconditioning against his shower-fresh skin.

"I'm out here because my clothes are drenched." Futakuchi's tone is almost offensive, like he's making it sound like Oikawa is the idiot that he must be, really, shivering in his own wet clothes. In hindsight, there was really no reason to turn the airconditioning on, because the heater was what he needed to warm up while he waited for Futakuchi to finish his shower, but he'd be lying if he said watching the way Futakuchi's shirt stuck and plastered to his back when they were coming here made him feel anything else but warm.

"There are clothes in my room, just grab whatever," Oikawa says in a rush, standing to start making his way to the bathroom, but Futakuchi stays where he is, blocking the entryway with his arms crossed over himself. "Out of the way."

Oikawa fears the towel Futakuchi has wrapped around his hips is going to fall off when he lifts his arms to hold Oikawa by his shoulders. The warmth is brief but welcomed and he almost wants to wrap his arms around Futakuchi just for that comfort.

"I need to shower, too," is Oikawa's unnecessary answer to the unnecessary question in Futakuchi's raised eyebrow.

Oikawa is _cold_ from the rain they'd sprinted under to get home, but the way Futakuchi's eyes are scanning over his body where he knows his wet clothes are sticking to him makes him shiver more than that.

Like this, without Futakuchi's eyes on his, Oikawa is free to look over every inch of Futakuchi's exposed skin, still damp from the shower but radiating the warmth Oikawa so craves, and the only reason he doesn't feel embarrassed about looking is because Futakuchi's eyes are still so openly and unabashedly on his body, too.

"Push me aside then," Futakuchi says now, finally looking back into his eyes and pulling his hands away. The warmth that his hands have left is replaced with a biting chill that has Oikawa shivering again.

"Why don't you just move," Oikawa sighs, sagging because he's tired, his tense shoulders from both the cold and the proximity proving to be much too exhausting to sustain for longer than a few minutes. "You're standing there all naked and I don't want to jump you."

Futakuchi huffs, a little thing of a laugh, but thankfully it is only amusement and not beratement that Oikawa can detect in it. "I wasn't thinking anything about jumping anybody." Futakuchi secures the towel around himself tighter just to make a show of the fabric over the light skin of his waist. "You're standing there all wet and disheveled and you're making me want to kiss you, is all I'm saying."

"Kiss me then," Oikawa answers immediately and without thinking, only then realizing that he's just mimicked Futakuchi's tone from earlier. 

Futakuchi does, very easily closing the distance between them, and it's a simple kiss, just a press of lips on his. When he pulls back, Oikawa opens his eyes to see Futakuchi's focused somewhere below his ear.

The hand Futakuchi's lifted to Oikawa's neck to trail over an apparent line of rainwater that has escaped his hair reminds him of the cold, but in that same second, when he leans forward to press a series of gentle yet heavy kisses against the wet of his neck, he steals away any cold Oikawa might have been feeling instantly.

Oikawa doesn't know when he's raised his own hands from his sides, hadn't even realized they were trembling from the cold or something else entirely until he had them pressed against the steady warmth of Futakuchi's chest. He lets out a sigh, comforted by the contact, both on his neck and on his hands, and his eyes slip closed before he can stop them.

"You're cold, Oikawa-san," Futakuchi whispers, words muffled into the soft skin of Oikawa's neck, and he wants to say that of course that much is obvious, wants to ask how in the world he wouldn't be cold after they'd just run seven blocks in the pouring rain and he'd sat in the airconditioning while Futakuchi took his sweet time in Oikawa's bathroom, wants to tell him to fucking _warm him up_ if it bothers him so much then, but any and all of his responses are reduced to a single quiet moan when Futakuchi sucks on his skin, drinking up any water or sweat that may have been there before his lips have made a home of themselves on his neck.

Oikawa feels weak and light-headed and he really should have just left Futakuchi out in the streets to be stormed on, so he feels for once how strong and chaotic a mess he makes in Oikawa's chest.

"Go shower," Futakuchi urges, after having left the smallest bite on Oikawa, and turns around, making his way down the hallway and into Oikawa's room, and in a daze he curses the fact that he wouldn't be opposed to the idea of seeing Futakuchi walk around his home like this, like he owns the place, not when he pretty much owns all of Oikawa already. He disappears into Oikawa's room after a smug, "I'll wait for you."


	14. 🏹 these lips, they don't lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. starting with a kiss meant to be gentle, ending up in passion

There's something mildly terrifying about sitting next to each other on the floor like this. Even if both Oikawa and Futakuchi are leaning against the front of someone's couch, Oikawa feels like he's going to fall and that there would be no coming back from it.

Oikawa can look away. He can-- act like the way Futakuchi laughs at his stupid remarks about the party means nothing, pretend like Futakuchi's fingers playing with his between them means nothing, pretend like the way they're locking eyes right now means nothing. Oikawa can look away.

But his ability doesn't outweigh his desire to understand for once, what it is that they've been dancing around and calling off for the past two months since they'd last found each other this close, and he doesn't want to look away, because for once, there are answers in Futakuchi's eyes and Oikawa needs to know.

If Futakuchi leans in, Oikawa doesn't protest, doesn't pull back either. He stays where he is and dares Futakuchi to lean in closer, if he can, and Oikawa wonders if there is also a desire in him that struggles to outweigh this ability to pull away.

"You gonna kiss me again?" Oikawa doesn't mean for his voice to come out this unsure, because he was the one who had kissed Futakuchi first, two months ago, although he knows that it was Futakuchi who kissed back, for all of five seconds of simply pressing his mouth to Oikawa's had allowed, before he got up and left.

The past two months they encountered each other around campus or cafes or with mutual friends saw them avoiding eye contact as if they were embarrassed, as Oikawa should have been, for having crossed a line, but as Futakuchi should have been, too, for crossing that line with him. Their awkwardness caused little alarm around people who knew them both, but Oikawa bets Futakuchi had shrugged them off the way Oikawa wishes he could instead of blushing and sighing and getting frustrated when he was asked about what happened between them.

"Am I allowed to?" Futakuchi's answer, a question of its own, for one reason or another, does not surprise Oikawa the way he was expecting any response from him would. His fingers twitch under where Futakuchi was mindlessly tracing over them with his own. It does however, make him guilty, for what he had done, without permission, that night.

"I'm sorry--"

"I'm asking you if I can kiss you," Futakuchi cuts off, only the slightest bit of impatience in his voice-- needing an answer, not an apology. Oikawa thinks he let out a little laugh, too, at Oikawa's apparently wrong answer. "Tell me I can."

Oikawa wants to huff out a sarcastic answer of _it isn't permission if you're forcing me to say yes_ , but he pouts instead and finally finds enough power to glance away from Futakuchi's eyes, but only for his to land lower on his face. "Maybe."

"Maybe isn't yes," Futakuchi reminds him, as if Oikawa didn't know what his own answer meant. The way he's even asking in the first place makes butterflies set off in Oikawa's stomach, replacing the initial guilt that should have been cancelled out the moment Futakuchi kissed him back all those weeks ago, proof that Fufakuchi not only let it happen, but also wanted it, too. They also replace any apprehension Oikawa was starting to feel at the possible awkwardness, because just being watched by Futakuchi like this, and just being close to Futakuchi like this, and just being wanted by Futakuchi like this, is too much and yet not satisfactorily enough at the same time.

So Oikawa whispers, "Yeah, you can kiss me." He may have tried for a tone of nonchalance or misplaced graciousness as if he were granting Futakuchi a big favor, but even to himself he sounds a little like he's begging, and he can think about how much that's going to hurt his pride later, after Futakuchi leans in and presses his lips to Oikawa's.

Oikawa knows his eyes flutter shut, and like this he feels hypersensitive to a lot of things. He can feel Futakuchi's fingers tighten around his on the floor, can feel just how light Futakuchi's lips are against his, soft and intentional but almost weightless in its gentle touch, can hear the low hum he lets out when Oikawa kisses back.

The kiss lasts longer than five seconds this time. Oikawa isn't counting, but he is sure of it if only because when Futakuchi parts from him, the breath he inhales feels like a burden more than any sort of relief.

"Okay--" Futakuchi starts, but whatever else he was about to say gets lost in Oikawa's mouth when he chooses that moment to surge forward so their lips meet again. 

Despite the adrenaline rushing through Oikawa as he does this, he knows he's actually not doing much with his lips, soft and still and giving the chance to go should Futakuchi decide he wants to run away, run away again, but there is no room for distraction when Futakuchi tilts his head to one side so he can slot their lips together better.

Even if Oikawa was the one who did this first the last time, he easily gets lost in the way Futakuchi leads, the hand that's left Oikawa's on the floor so he can cup it around Oikawa's neck instead, the other touching his cheek. He doesn't know what to do with his own hands, afraid that if he touches Futakuchi back like he's dreamed of doing for these past eight weeks, it will shatter this illusion. They stay balled by his sides, refusing any unnecessary contact. His mind is flying with possibilities and things he wants to do, ways he wants this to go, but Futakuchi's kisses are so soft, and gentle, and Oikawa isn't sure it's still happening even though it absolutely fucking is.

He isn't even supposed to have enough time to be processing this, the fact that he's kissing Futakuchi again, and to prove this right there's already cold air swiping to steal what warmth Futakuchi's lips have left on his when they part, and he honest to god can't take it.

Oikawa knows that Futakuchi was only aiming for one kiss, and he knows that he's already maxed out his luck with just the second one, but if it's going to take two months-- or worse, an actual eternity-- to feel this way again, to be this close again, is he really to blame if he wants just one more?

The one answer is yes, because there isn't any other answer, and even as Futakuchi gasps at Oikawa fitting his lips against Futakuchi's once more, Oikawa doesn't know how he'll regret it later.

Futakuchi's lips have forgone their soft and gentle presses, now replacing them with more insistent and open-mouthed kisses, and his tongue licks into Oikawa's open and willing mouth, and if he finally lifts his hands off of the floor to grasp at Futakuchi's shirt, it is only because of the passion that's just been ignited by the taste of Futakuchi in his mouth.

When even breathing through his nose becomes too much of an effort, and when even pressing against Futakuchi like his life depends on it becomes too embarrassing, and when even Futakuchi saying his name in a muffled wet groan against Oikawa's lips becomes too much for him to handle, he pulls away.

Oikawa can look away. He doesn't have to stare at how Futakuchi's eyelashes are fluttering as he struggles to keep them open, doesn't have to watch Futakuchi taking deep breaths in as if he'd just let Oikawa take all of his away, doesn't have to look at how shiny he's left Futakuchi's lips in the wake of that brief burst of passion, doesn't have to observe the slight trembling in Futakuchi's fingers after he's pulled away like Oikawa's skin has burned them.

Oikawa can look away, get up the way Futakuchi did two months ago, and let the cycle of awkwardness and wanting to reach out but not knowing how to start again.

Instead, he lets Futakuchi place his hands over Oikawa's where he still unconsciously left them over Futakuchi's chest.

"I'm not running away this time," Futakuchi says, almost urgently, as wild as the beating of his heart that Oikawa can feel on his palms if he really focuses. But Futakuchi's mouth, kiss-swollen and spit-slick, becomes a whole distraction in itself, and Oikawa can't concentrate on anything else even if he tried.

There are different replies on the tip of his tongue, of different tones and of different degrees of emotions, but when Futakuchi lets go of his hands, Oikawa finds there's nothing he can really say in response to that except, "Neither am I."


	15. 🍱 trust i speak the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15\. a gentle "i love you" whisper after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss

"I keep telling you I'm no good at communicating," Futakuchi says, exasperation carrying his voice from where he's seated at his couch. Oikawa hadn't bothered taking his shoes or coat off, only walking directly into the kitchen to get the takeout he'd gotten for dinner ready before coming here.

He doesn't want to get angry, or even sad, and over such small fucking things, because relationships are different for different people and he's always known Futakuchi isn't good at talking. Neither is he in the first place! But maybe he _did_ get a little jealous hearing about all the lovey-dovey shit from he and his high school friends talked about when they had lunch this afternoon. "Still," Oikawa replies anyway, leaving the containers at the counter to clean up later for when they finish eating.

"Still what," Futakuchi deadpans, taking his feet off of the coffee table to make space for the food Oikawa has brought in. "I'm just no good with words."

"No shit," Oikawa can't help himself from replying in an instant, though he knows he can't hide his smile. "Wouldn't hurt to hear you say these things some more."

"What things?" Oikawa sees it when Futakuchi's eyes practically zoom in towards the bag of gummies Oikawa bought for dessert after their dinner, and like a child, he has to have his hands slapped away so he would grab the actual food instead of candy. If Futakuchi rolls his eyes, it's only with the fondness Oikawa has had to get used to because of just how "no good with words" Futakuchi is.

"Things like..." Now that Oikawa's actually trying to verbalize them, they start sounding embarrassing before he even gets them out, so even if Futakuchi has divided the food equally between them already, Oikawa keeps his hands on his lap where he'd taken a seat and pressed himself close against Futakuchi's side, keeping quiet.

"You already know those things," is all Futakuchi settles to say before diving into his food. Oikawa does the same after agreeing with a sheepish nod and lets his thoughts be consumed by his dinner and whatever it was that Futakuchi was watching on his own before Oikawa got here.

The few minutes spent eating is pleasant-- Oikawa has been hungry not only for actual food, but also for just the actual comfort of Futakuchi's presence, and all thoughts of jealousy and any other else distraction is lost in the way Futakuchi uses his chopsticks to transfer baby corn and mushrooms onto Oikawa's plate because he likes them so much, and in the way Futakuchi urges Oikawa to drink from their shared glass with a gentle nudge of offer every time he takes a sip himself, and in the way Futakuchi stands up and takes Oikawa's plate with him when they finish so he can get them in the sink to undoubtedly wash himself later, and in the way Futakuchi bends down when he returns to the couch to take Oikawa's shoes off, and in the way he slides Oikawa's coat off past his shoulders and hangs it at the backrest of the couch, and in the way Futakuchi can't hold his smile back when he finally has the pack of gummies in his hands, and in the way Futakuchi offers the first piece to Oikawa, like he hasn't been craving for a taste the moment he even saw it with the dinner.

"Dummy," Oikawa mumbles, chewing the gummy Futakuchi has held out to his mouth. When he swallows, Futakuchi just laughs at him, gummies still in his mouth, and gives him a soft peck on his lips.

Futakuchi puts the bag down on the table and turns to fully look at him, apologetic but also sure, whispering a barely there "I love you."

And then Futakuchi is kissing him again, stronger and deeper this time, so much so that the sugar left on his lips from the candy makes its way onto Oikawa's tongue, and if he feels his heart speeding up in his chest from just those words, it isn't anything new. This isn't the first time Futakuchi's ever told him this, but it still makes him all warm and fluttery inside like a damned teenager with a high school crush instead of an actual adult who's been Futakuchi's boyfriend for a year and a half.

Oikawa has no trouble kissing back with just as much emotion because he only needs Futakuchi and the small things he does, when they're together and when they aren't. There's zero need for lovey-dovey shit and public displays of affection and a hundred i love you's in a day, not when Futakuchi knows exactly what to do to make Oikawa feel like he's the most precious little thing on earth, despite how much of a nuisance he knows he actually is.

He has no business getting all fired up about other people's relationships when he's got a perfectly imperfect one of his own, and he's perfectly happy with Futakuchi.

These sappy and gross thoughts distract him just enough that he doesn't realize that Futakuchi's already pulled him onto his lap, and when his hands slide under Oikawa's shirt and rest warm at the small of his back, Oikawa just _knows_ , feels like he would know even if Futakuchi hadn't said it just now.

It's always been actions speak louder than words with Futakuchi anyway.


	16. ✨ it's pure bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16\. when one person's face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead

"Futakuchi-kun," Oikawa whispers, loud enough to be heard but soft enough not to startle. He leans down and forward, lets out a breath against Futakuchi's cheek, says his name again. "Futakuchi-kun, wake up."

Oikawa's boyfriend stirs where he lies, but he doesn't open his eyes. He only furrows his eyebrows at Oikawa's attempt at waking him up.

Very rightfully, Oikawa is endeared as hell, and places a light kiss on his forehead to soothe the wrinkles that he's formed there. "Futakuchi-kun, wake up."

Futakuchi groans, blindly reaching his hand up to swat at Oikawa. He scrunches his nose when he doesn't succeed in any degree at landing a hit on him.

Very rightfully, Oikawa is endeared as hell, and places another light kiss on his nose, to ease the little stress there. "Futakuchi-kun..."

Futakuchi's face relaxes from all his early-morning grumpiness, but he still refuses to give much of his half-asleep attention to Oikawa. He mumbles something not even anywhere near coherent, and whatever it is that he was trying to say only ends in a pout when he fails to continue speaking.

Very rightfully, Oikawa is endeared as hell, and places another light kiss on his lips, the plush of his bottom lip shiny as he speaks against it. "Futakuchi-kun, what did you say?"

"I said," Futakuchi says, voice coming out hoarse with sleep, "Stop calling me that." He turns his head to the side to shield himself from the light coming in from the window. With that action, he unconsciously reveals Oikawa's marks on him from the night before, his neck littered with a few dark spots of Oikawa's ownership.

Very rightfully, Oikawa is endeared as hell, and places not just one light kiss anymore on his neck. He can feel Futakuchi's hand come up and languidly play with his hair, and Oikawa takes this as affirmation, as a _keep going._

"What am I supposed to call you then?" He goes for a few tentative kisses before pressing his lips against his skin a bit harder, and Futakuchi hums quietly.

When Oikawa parts his lips to mouth at his neck, he feels a sudden hard blow at his stomach and he falls off the edge of the bed.

From his place on the floor, Oikawa looks up to see Futakuchi peering over at him, face reflecting more annoyance now than the angelic peaceful look he had on his face when Oikawa had managed to kiss him awake.

"Uhm," Oikawa tries for a loud voice, incredulous, "Ouch?!"

"That tickled, you idiot," Futakuchi says, finally sitting up on the bed and crossing his arms.

Oikawa follows the action and sits up on the floor, using Futakuchi's tone against him. "It obviously didn't _tickle_ last night, you idiot."

If Futakuchi freezes in what might be self-consciousness, very unlike him, it's only for one second, and then he's pulling the blanket up and around his shoulders, lies down almost violently, and turns his back to Oikawa. "Don't kiss me awake, you _idiot._ "

Oikawa pouts then, but realizes that his cuteness won't be having any effect if Futakuchi isn't looking at him. He jumps up from the floor and, knowing fully well that he's going to be annoying his boyfriend even more, lies on top of Futakuchi, burying his face into the soft brown of his hair. "Futakuchi-kun..."

"Leave me alone," he hears Futakuchi grumble, and Oikawa honestly doesn't understand what he's acting like this about, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't falling even more for this cute act he's putting on. Not that Oikawa thinks he's deliberately acting cute. Futakuchi doesn't even have to _try_.

"Hey," Oikawa whispers, soft and gentle, and this at least gets Futakuchi's attention, a ceasefire, so he turns to look at him. "Good morning."

Futakuchi rolls his eyes but cranes his neck to peck at the corner of Oikawa's mouth. "Good morning," he mumbles, then pulls the corner of the blanket from where Oikawa's accidentally held it down by his weight and throws it over himself, covering himself.

Futakuchi is either very hostile towards him in the morning, or very shy and soft, and usually, there is no in-between, but it looks like he's both today and--

Very rightfully, Oikawa is endeared as hell, and he just wraps his arms around the lump that has become of Futakuchi. "Let's get up."

Futakuchi's response is muffled, but Oikawa hears him when he says, "Let's just stay in bed, Oikawa-san."

Even though the tone is nowhere near enticing or desiring, Oikawa melts at the words and he hugs his Futakuchi lump even tighter to himself. The cold air nips at his skin and he wishes to be under the blanket with Futakuchi, but he stays where he is, hooking even his leg over where he thinks his boyfriend's waist is.

"Futakuchi-kun," Oikawa calls again, croons and sings and sighs. "I like you so much."

Futakuchi's response is a groan, obviously from embarrassment. There's a jab at his stomach again, might be an elbow, as if Futakuchi hadn't had enough from kicking him off the bed just a minute ago, whether he'd done it on purpose or not.

Futakuchi peeks out of the blanket, forehead creased and not anything Oikawa can relate to the word cute. His reply of _I know_ isn't cute either. If Futakuchi could stop being a coward and tell Oikawa he likes him, too, that would make him the cutest. He never says it, but Oikawa knows anyway.

But still, very rightfully, Oikawa is endeared as hell, and when Futakuchi reaches over to kiss again and misses Oikawa's mouth, Oikawa's poor little heart just can't take it.


	17. 💡 only one i choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17\. height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

"Must be nice, huh?"

_What must be nice?_ Oikawa doesn't really want to know what Futakuchi is getting at, foregoes the kick he wants to send back to hit Futakuchi for his dumbass starting to tease, but only because he'd rather not injure himself like this. In the first place, Futakuchi should be focused on holding the ladder in place and making sure Oikawa doesn't fall. 

He ignores him altogether, focusing on replacing the bulb of the corner lamp by the entrance of their apartment.

Curse stupid fancy lamps and curse stupid shaky ladders and curse stupid Futakuchi for scaring Oikawa so much the first time they had to replace this light and he had fallen off the ladder because he wasn't being careful. Curse Oikawa for volunteering to do it this time and curse Futakuchi for teasing him about caring too much about him, and curse everything because it's true and there's no denying it.

"Must be nice being taller than me for once, huh?" Futakuchi's voice is annoyingly amused from below him and Oikawa doesn't want to let his teasing get to him even when he starts screwing the bulb on too tight.

"You're literally one centimeter taller than me," Oikawa replies, mouth dry, and maybe it does give him some kind of pleasure being up here, a place higher than him and knowing that Futakuchi's eyes are fixed on body parts he definitely shouldn't be staring at while Oikawa is working on something so simple yet he'd failed at. "Stop bragging about your height when you can't even replace the lights for this without spraining an ankle." Futakuchi lets out a dramatic gasp, the loser. "Check the switch to see if it's okay now, shithead."

"Shithead," Futakuchi whistles, laughing at the insult, but reaching over and trying the switch anyway. 

When he is blinded by the light that turns on as he was looking up, he almost lets go of the ladder and for one second Oikawa has to fight back a yell. Futakuchi steadies himself and the ladder, one hand going up to hold Oikawa by his hip.

Softer, Futakuchi says sorry, and lifts his hand up for Oikawa to take for apparently much-needed support as he breathes in relief and slowly starts stepping down the ladder.

At around four or three steps left, he turns to watch how Futakuchi's eyes are still blinking the flash away, bleary and a little wild. "You should see your face," Oikawa teases, and he fully turns his body, thankful for the stability Futakuchi's grip offers, on the ladder and on him.

Futakuchi rolls his eyes but the small smile on his lips as he looks up at Oikawa is telling of how he really isn't affected at all by any of his teasing. Oikawa keeps still where he is, thoroughly enjoying the view, and the fleeting thought of something Oikawa's only ever experienced with his smaller exes because Futakuchi is a tall piece of shit crosses his mind.

"Taking your time?" Futakuchi asks now, though he is curious at having caught Oikawa staring at him so quietly. "I'm afraid you'll have to get back down here before I let go and let you fall on your ass."

Futakuchi wouldn't. He cares too much about Oikawa to risk any injury, even if he isn't as high up as he had been when he was actually busy with the task at hand. He tries to shake away his thoughts of height difference kisses and gets back at Futakuchi. "What, can't stand me being taller than you for once?"

"I'm literally a centimeter taller than you," Futakuchi mimics him from earlier, shaking the hands they have linked together. The grin splitting on his lips is infuriatingly attractive, and Oikawa wishes very much to kiss it off his face. "Get down."

"Make me," Oikawa challenges, very dumbly if he may add, because he's barely even half a foot above the floor, and even if Futakuchi ignores him, he can get down safely by himself no problem.

Still, when Futakuchi shakes his hand off and tugs at the front of Oikawa's shirt, he all but gets a heart attack, but Futakuchi is on his tippy toes like he isn't this handsome six footer and his grip is strong enough that the ladder doesn't even shift at Oikawa being pulled down to lean close, and when Futakuchi tilts up to leave a long, hard kiss on Oikawa's lips, the adrenaline from the uncertainty of falling fades into quiet static. He wonders if Futakuchi can read his mind or something.

Futakuchi lets go in a few seconds, both of the ladder and of him, and Oikawa thinks, yeah, he might not have fallen off the ladder, but he might have fallen that much deeper for Futakuchi, and that's just as dangerous anyway.

_Must be nice, huh?_


	18. 🩹 not a phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. kisses where one person is sitting in the other's lap

"You should have just left them alone," Futakuchi scolds, the bite in his tone doing nothing to relieve Oikawa. It makes him wince instead, because he's never heard Futakuchi this angry before, and in turn, the cuts on his lip and his cheek burn with his facial expression, and what must be turning into a black eye throbs on his face.

Oikawa doesn't argue, because Futakuchi's probably right. Drunk thugs on the side of the road know no better, and they just want to rile innocent passersby up for their own sick entertainment, but something about being insulted and called names when Oikawa has literally dedicated four years getting Futakuchi comfortable enough to feel safe being in their relationship didn't sit right with him, and if Oikawa were a little less tipsy then he might have ignored them like Futakuchi is scolding him about. "You say that but you punched both of them hard enough that they passed out."

The only response Oikawa hears from the bathroom is running water and the clattering of the things Futakuchi is treating none too gently in the medicine cabinet. If he were looking for the first-aid kit, he could just ask Oikawa, but he's still fuming and he doubts Futakuchi would listen to him anyway.

Oikawa has just gotten up after saying, "Leave it to me," when Futakuchi finishes in the bathroom, and the daggers he sends Oikawa through his glare is enough to make him sit his ass back down on the bed.

Futakuchi stomps over towards Oikawa, getting on his knees in front of Oikawa's spread legs. He sets the first-aid kit and small basin of water down beside himself as he first looks over Oikawa's hands. The sigh of relief he lets out when he doesn't see any wounds was so small that Oikawa would have missed it if he weren't watching him so carefully.

When Futakuchi looks up at Oikawa's face, his forehead creases and his eyebrows furrow in even more anger, as if Futakuchi hasn't had enough rage in his system for one night already, and when he lifts himself higher to be able to observe Oikawa's face more closely, Oikawa has to fight the urge to back away.

Whatever assessment done, Futakuchi grabs antiseptic and cotton from the small box by their feet. The angle Oikawa has to tilt his head back with when Futakuchi stands all the way up makes a sharp pain go through his neck, and when he can't keep a wince in again, Futakuchi sighs. He looks around the room and Oikawa wonders what it is he's looking for, but when he doesn't find it, he just sighs again.

"Move," Futakuchi commands, so Oikawa does, adjusting himself so he's shifting back farther onto the bed, and he honestly doesn't know what he was expecting, but Futakuchi nudging his knees closed so he can straddle him wasn't on the list.

So he was looking for somewhere to sit then, Oikawa's brain unhelpfully supplies, before there are more pressing matters, like Futakuchi pressing himself closer to sit in Oikawa's lap.

This isn't a position the two of them have ever been in before, and while Oikawa very easily considers how nice it is to feel Futakuchi's weight on him for a change, he doesn't try to think about how he could have easily asked for a chair, or remained standing and let Oikawa strain his neck as punishment since he's so mad.

He knows Futakuchi is doing this because Oikawa needs it. This closeness, this safety, this comfort.

For all of his aggression, Futakuchi is uncharacteristically gentle and light with his fingers when he touches Oikawa's skin. His face has softened up now, less anger and more concern. The pain when he starts dabbing at his wounds is nothing compared to the ache he's feeling in his chest at coming to the realization that he's caused nothing but trouble for Futakuchi since they'd started being more open about their relationship.

It must show on his face, because Futakuchi starts speaking to fill the silence that's allowed Oikawa to think bad things. "I don't care about what other people say, you know?" He turns the cotton over and presses it softly to just under Oikawa's eye. "At least I don't anymore. No one else matters to me now." Futakuchi doesn't meet his eyes, and even if he's trying for a scoff, the genuineness of words coming from someone like Futakuchi who never knows how to express his feelings makes Oikawa tear up. "Now your pretty face is all roughed up."

Oikawa chokes on a laugh, overwhelmed with emotion. Oikawa has never cared either, and no one else has ever mattered to Oikawa either, and he was just drunk and angry that someone was being a bitch to someone who's brought him nothing but happiness and acceptance. Still, he bites the bait to lighten the mood, because Futakuchi's face has finally relaxed completely, and he would be damned if he let that smile slip off any more tonight. "You only care about my face."

"I do," Futakuchi immediately replies. This makes the both of them laugh, and Futakuchi's putting the blood-stained cotton down so both his free hands can cup over both of Oikawa's cheeks, still as featherlight and careful, and whether it is this gentle Futakuchi who holds him like he's fragile glass and kisses him like he's just happy they're both okay, or the Futakuchi who has pulled him aside so he could punch strangers in the face for hurting him, Oikawa decides that he's the only one he could ever feel this closeness, this safety, this comfort with.


	19. ⌚ i get weak when you--

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing

"Get back to your work, Futakuchi-kun," Oikawa huffs, his own tired eyes taking so much effort to keep themselves open.

He taps on Futakuchi's phone between them on the low table, where multiple notebooks and handouts are strewn in a messy pile. Oikawa likes to think this some sort of a unique study style, but the screen lights up to tell him it's just past 2 AM and even the 20-minute power nap Futakuchi had suggested he take sounds appealing just about now. Except he knows himself well enough to admit that if he takes that nap, he will _not_ be getting up, not for four hours at least, and then what?

"I'll get back to work when you stop acting like you can still understand anything you're trying to read, Oikawa-san." Futakuchi puts his own pen down, taps at Oikawa's glasses gently. "You need a break."

"So do you," Oikawa retorts, pouting because be knows Futakuchi doesn't, not actually, because he's actually good at studying _and_ staying up, and the fact that he's smarter and has always paid attention in their class is so unfair. He repositions himself on the floor, crossing his legs and sitting up straighter. "I'll only take a nap if you do."

"I don't need one," Futakuchi says, picking a highlighter up this time. It really is unfair, that there isn't a single trace of sleepiness or exhaustion on Futakuchi's face.

Oikawa sighs. "I just need to get this part right," he says desperately, because this paragraph just refuses to register and make sense in his head, and it's as annoying as it is exhausting, and if Futakuchi weren't here, he'd probably already have broken down over the smallest of things again.

"What don't you get, I'll teach you." The fake impatience is so obvious in his voice. Just-- cue Futakuchi Kenji being an actual angel on earth. He gets up from his side and settles behind Oikawa when he sits down, his open legs pressing against the outside of Oikawa's, his chin hooking over his shoulder. "Which one is it?"

Oikawa knows he's sucked in a breath just from how close Futakuchi has suddenly brought himself, knows it's terrible of him to suddenly be feeling so alert, but he argues in his head that he's tired and has every right to lean his back against Futakuchi's chest. He uses his pencil to encircle the particular paragraph a few times. "This."

When Futakuchi starts explaining, yes, it starts making sense to Oikawa very quickly and he grabs a scrap piece of paper to take notes. But also, when Futakuchi finishes his brief explanation with nothing short of a flourish and Oikawa is transferring that to the margin of his handouts as quickly as his dead brain can handle so he doesn't forget, Futakuchi has started kissing at his shoulder, and Oikawa actually hates him after all.

"Get off," Oikawa warns. Futakuchi pays no mind to this very half-hearted protest and leaves a peck on the side of Oikawa's neck. He wonders if he's gripping his pencil hard enough to break because his handwriting is coming out a little shaky, but he fights to keep his focus on his notes because he's finally understood something he's been reading over seven times in just the past ten minutes, and Oikawa isn't going to let Futakuchi--

"Break," Futakuchi reminds him, leaving the stupidest little kisses at Oikawa's ear and his cheek and his neck and his shoulder and all of it is so distracting, and terrible, and Oikawa takes it back, Futakuchi is _no_ angel on earth, and maybe his suggestion to study and pull an all-nighter together had been a bad idea since the beginning, and-- "Just 20 minutes."

Oikawa finishes up his annotations at the paragraph and grabs the highlighter Futakuchi's left uncapped at his side of the table to go over the key phrases he's just learned. "Futakuchi-kun, I swear to God--"

"Oikawa-san," Futakuchi whispers, firmly calling his attention, and any more fight dies silently on Oikawa's lips when arms wrap around him from behind and fingers are under his chin to tilt his face to the side. Despite the softness of the touch, Futakuchi's voice and words are still _so_ very him. "Take a _fucking_ break already."

Oikawa sags against him then, finally, and when Futakuchi kisses him, he downright melts into putty. Futakuchi's mouth anywhere else on his body had been good distractions, but when it's on Oikawa's own, there really is nothing else that could convince him to take care of himself better than this.

"Just 20 minutes," Oikawa says determinedly, more for himself than for Futakuchi, and he gathers just enough of the last of his strength to tackle Futakuchi down with him when he goes down in a messy pile on the floor.

If he lays his head on Futakuchi's arm, there is no protest, and if he lets Futakuchi kiss him until he falls asleep, there are no complains either.


	20. 🧳 ride or die with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20\. top of head kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is my favorite out of the bunch

"Hey." 

Oikawa looks up from where he's been picking at the handle of his suitcase, startled by the gentle call in the voice of someone he was sure he had seen the last of. The skip of his heart and the swoop of his stomach are both traitors to the pain seeing Futakuchi has just elicited inside of him by showing up. "You shouldn't be here."

Futakuchi stays where he is, doesn't move where he stands, and even though Oikawa has been sitting alone for the majority of his wait for his flight, the space beside him feels unbearably empty all of a sudden. "I know."

Neither his answer nor the shrug of shoulders Futakuchi offers is an explanation for why he's here, not when they'd cried about this day already so many times, separately and together, and even if the last time Oikawa's seen Futakuchi was two weeks ago, and even if he was able to hold all of it in for that brief amount of time, there is absolutely no stopping the floodgates from reopening as tears rapidly start spilling over his cheeks. "You really," Oikawa takes a breath, or forces himself to, even though it's shaky, "Really shouldn't be here."

Futakuchi finally walks forward, coming close enough to him that the tips of their shoes meet on the floor, and when Oikawa tips his head forward, it's so he can hide his sobs into the fabric of Futakuchi's shirt. From above him, he only hears Futakuchi's voice carry the same answer. "I know."

He lets himself be held, as awkward as Futakuchi's arms resting over Oikawa's back and shoulders and his fingers soothing over the brown tangle of his hair can even be considered holding him, and even if he feels like he's falling apart, in this place, the sounds of reunions and partings and planes taking off and planes just landing and announcements and suitcase wheels loud all around him, he's held together for just this moment, before a goodbye he thought they'd already had.

Oikawa wraps his own arms around Futakuchi's waist, grips at the back of his shirt for all that he's worth, inhales and breathes the familiar scent of Futakuchi in, and a mistake as this is for breaking him down even more, he holds on, because this may very well be the last time he'll be allowed to take Futakuchi in like this, the last time he'll be _able_ to.

"You have to go," Futakuchi says, and if his voice trembles, Oikawa does not tease him about it. There is a repeat for his flight's announcement, departure instead of homecoming, and despite the pounding of his heart in his throat and the loud ringing in his ears, he knows that the formal tone of a voice that isn't his, from airport speakers instead of his own mouth, is the only goodbye he's capable of giving anymore.

Oikawa's chest hurts, and he wonders for the first time what biological function it is in his body that allows him to physically feel this pain-- the tingles all the way to his fingers, the constriction in his chest, the chill in his stomach, the tears in his eyes-- when he lets go of Futakuchi and it breaks his heart.

In the haze of his tears and in the struggle of his breathing and in the tightness in his chest and in the hopelessness of it all, the only thing that's clear and _there_ enough to feel real is the kiss that Futakuchi presses to the top of his head, fleeting and quick, forbidden in its brief touch.

When he lifts his head, looks up, blinks his eyes free of tears, or tries to, at least, and uselessly at that, Futakuchi is already at a distance, back turned as he walks among the ever moving crowd of people in the airport, farther and farther away.

He wonders if every person here is in this place to say a warm welcome home for a loved one, or a heartbreaking goodbye like him. Which is it? He wonders if Futakuchi was contented with that-- a kiss he'd only given, and not a kiss that they would have been able to share. Which is it?

But whether he was okay with that or not, his back is getting lost in the sea of people, and Oikawa can't even remember the color of the shirt he was wearing, or if he had been wearing a cap or a bonnet, or if he was really even there anymore.

Oikawa doesn't know how to live with the heartbreak that it's him who's leaving, but it's Futakuchi who's already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you have a nice new year!!
> 
> [◦](https://open.spotify.com/track/7fkXzzIVo98CgjOkpd9H0V?si=ILGcDyqyQ9aqOt0a1zB-_g)  
> 


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